


In This Together

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, F/M, Modern AU, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fill, a mix of all three tbh, mostly fluff but some other stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 19,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: Awkward conversations, late night TV, imaginary kisses and real forgiveness. Elections and seductions, nightmares and hugs. It’s all here, and it's all kabby.Short, one-off kabby fics and 100 word drabbles based off prompts I’ve been sent or seen. Some canon compliant, some not. If a chapter has ‘AU’ after it then it takes place in a completely alternate universe ie. Modern AU (so chapters that are still set in The 100 universe but canon divergent won’t be marked as such)Comments are very much appreciated; kudos is appreciated as well but if you like a particular chapter please take a moment to let me know!(Prompts for future chapters are also welcome)





	1. Election Night

Prompt: ‘ _Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you’re warm…’_

(hey look it’s an Arkadia S3 AU that is very close to my heart)

 

* * *

 

 

Marcus was pacing round the Chancellor’s quarters trying to calm his thoughts. Pacing didn’t help, in fact, but sitting still was worse, impossible even.

The results should be in by now. They _must_ be in by now. There were less than a thousand people in Arkadia, and even if all of them who were of age decided to cast a vote then the counting could hardly take more than  a couple of hours. The electronic votes would be tallied instantaneously, of course, once the deadline was past, but some had insisted on a second vote on physical slips of paper as well; a failsafe, a way to double-check that the electronic system could not be tampered with.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – this was important, after all, and no-one wanted there to be any doubt as to the outcome. But now, as Marcus strode up and down the room, clenching and unclenching his hands reflexively, it just seemed redundant. What was the point? No-one could fix this election without being discovered. There were so few of them now that it would be pretty obvious once people started talking to each other afterwards if the result wasn’t what they wanted.

And what _did_ they want? _What do your people want, Councillor Kane?_ He had thought he’d known, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Were they even his people anymore?

He probably should have been out there himself, _among_ those people, but he hadn’t been able to face it. Whatever happened, Marcus needed to hear about it in private first, to prepare himself for how to handle the fallout. Besides, he hadn’t wanted his presence to seem in any way intimidating, or coercive. He hadn’t wanted there to be any hint that he might be trying to influence the result. Let the people decide for themselves. It had felt odd even venturing out to cast his own vote; selecting his own name with a confidence he wasn’t even sure he felt.

Just looking at the alternative name below his own had made him feel slightly sick with worry. There were only two names on the ballot – Abby had taken herself out of the running, afraid of splitting his vote.

There was a knock on the door, as if he had summoned it by his last thought. There was, after all, only one person it could be, although in any other circumstance it might have amused Marcus that she would feel the need to ask for permission to enter the room that was technically still hers.

“Come in,” he called, hoping his voice was at least steadier than his legs felt.

Abby entered, closing the heavy door behind her. Her face was unreadable.

“The results are in?” asked Marcus.

“Yes.” Abby held out her hand, curled into a fist, and just as he was trying to work out what she was doing, opened it. In her palm lay a small metal pin.

He looked back up and met her eyes.

“Congratulations, Chancellor Kane,” said Abby.

He blinked at her. “I... _won?_ ”

Abby’s face broke into a beaming smile. “You won,” she said.

Marcus felt relief crashing through him like a wave, pent up emotion released in a great, giddy rush. Before he knew what he was doing he strode across the room to Abby and instead of taking the pin he threw his arms around her, almost lifting her off the floor with the force of his embrace. She let out a little ‘Oh!’ of surprise and he released her quickly, but she was almost laughing when she stepped back, looking flustered but happy.

“You’re sure?” said Marcus. “It’s not in any doubt?”

Abby shook her head. “I’m sure,” she said. “I waited until they had finished the recount, every single vote twice over. You won. Not by a landslide, but by a pretty significant margin. I’m guessing most of the votes for Pike came from what’s left of Farm Station.”

“Most?”

“Not all,” she conceded gently. “I’m not saying you’re universally beloved. But our people _trust_ you, Marcus.” Her expression was soft, earnest. “They’ve seen how hard you’ve worked to get us this far, these past few months. They chose you over Pike because they know you’re the right person to lead us now.”

“They chose peace over war,” said Marcus, a little embarrassed now at Abby’s praise. “It was an easy choice to make.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Abby smiled. “But they chose _right._ You helped them see.”

“Not all of them...”

“Oh, just enjoy the moment, Chancellor,” said Abby, the mildness of her tone softening her words. “You _won._ In time the others will understand why. Even the people from Farm Station. They’re still afraid, but you can help them to understand that our fear doesn’t have to drive us, that we can find a better way.”

“ _We_ can help them to understand,” Marcus corrected, with a smile of his own. He felt lightheaded and slightly giddy with relief. “You know I can’t do this without you, Abby.”

“Of course you can’t,” she said. “We’re in this together, right?” She reached up and took the collar of his jacket in one hand, and Marcus watched as she carefully fixed the Chancellor’s pin into place. To his surprise, she didn’t step back again when she was finished, but instead hesitated for a moment...and then wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Marcus felt himself freeze for a moment in surprise, and then he put his arms around her tentatively in return, suddenly unsure of himself, of how to read the gesture.

“Thank you,” Abby said softly, her face buried against his shoulder, voice slightly muffled.

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you.”

Marcus relaxed, deciding that if this was what being Chancellor again was going to be like, he could definitely get used to it. He let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of Abby’s embrace, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the soft scent of her filling his lungs with every breath. His first, impulsive hug had been fuelled by sheer relief, but this was something gentler, more...intimate. The word crept its way into his mind and once there he couldn’t shake it. His heart started to beat a little faster, and maybe Abby felt it, because she shifted slightly in his arms and murmured:

“Marcus, I...”

There was a knock on the door and they broke apart. Abby held his gaze for a long moment and then dropped it abruptly, looking uncharacteristically shy.

“Your people need you,” she said, the slightest hint of a tease in her voice.

“Right. Of course.” Marcus felt a little wrong-footed, as though a lot had changed in a very short space of time. Abby smiled, sensing his hesitation, and gestured to the door.

“After you, Chancellor Kane,” she said, and Marcus only had time to reflect – as he went to face the people who he had not lost after all – that not so long ago he could never have imagined Abby Griffin would ever say _those_ words with a smile on her face.


	2. Stargazing (AU)

Prompt: _“You’re lucky that I’m tired, because if I was fully awake I would have already shoved you off this roof.”_

 

* * *

 

Abby had only been sitting on the roof of her parents’ garage for a few minutes when she heard the click and rattle of the window opening from the house next door. Strange how even after all this time, the sound felt so familiar to her. As familiar as the smooth surface of the roof beneath her bare feet, as the faint night-time sounds of the town, as the crisp autumn breeze shaking the trees and the glow from the window next to her illuminating it all. Over twenty years had passed, but this place remained so unchanged.

She wished she could say the same for herself.

Still, somehow she wasn’t surprised when Marcus climbed out of the window opposite and joined her. In some obscure way, she had been expecting him.

“I hope this can still take my weight,” he said, picking his way carefully across to her.

“It’s taking mine okay,” said Abby.

He sat down next to her as they had used to sit together up here all those years ago, but at a distance more appropriate to two people who were virtually strangers, now.

“I think you’re much the same size you were at sixteen,” he said.

It could be taken as a compliment, or an insult, so Abby just shrugged. Marcus Kane had always had a rather blunt way of speaking, and after not having seen him for decades she found it was almost comforting to know that one thing at least hadn’t changed.

Though of course the house he had just emerged from was _his_ now, not his mother’s. Just as the roof they were sitting on technically didn’t belong to Abby’s mom and dad anymore, but to her, even if it didn’t feel like it. Still, it was better out here than inside. This at least had always been _her_ place. The rest of the house just felt wrong – it was full of her parents’ ghosts, and every time she entered a room she still half expected to see them there; her father sitting in his armchair reading some obscure medical journal, her mom pottering about the kitchen making one of her famous peach preserves.

There were far too many ghosts in Abby’s life, these days.

It was several minutes before Marcus spoke again, and Abby had been so lost in her thoughts that it almost made her jump when he did.

“Are you really still angry at me?” he asked.

She didn’t turn. “You’re lucky that I’m tired,” she said, “because if I was fully awake I would have already shoved you off this roof.”

Marcus chuckled, obviously relieved at her light tone. “I’ll take my chances,” he said, and relaxed a little, stretching his long legs out on the roof before him. Abby felt another little pang of nostalgia, the memory of his particular mannerisms returning out of nowhere. In some ways it was difficult to see the rangy, dark-eyed boy she’d once known in the man who sat beside her now, bearded and shaggy haired and...less _intense_ , in a way that was difficult to describe. But he would always stretch his legs out like that, she remembered, and she would always sit hugging her knees to her chest against the cold, as she was now.

That was back when they had first started meeting out here, of course. Later on, they would simply have been wrapped around each other.

Perhaps Marcus was thinking the same thing, because he cleared his throat a little awkwardly and said:

“I’d understand, you know, if you still hated me. I was a real asshole back then.”

“It wasn’t all your fault.” Abby sighed. “We were both teenagers; we were both selfish and stupid and too proud to admit to our own mistakes. It was a long time ago. Besides, I don’t think I ever really _hated_ you, Marcus. I loved you too much for that.”

She wished she hadn’t said it as soon as she did – the words felt too intimate, too _present_ , in this moment.

“Well I hated myself enough for the both of us, at the time,” said Marcus. “That was the worst part, I think. Knowing that I only had myself to blame.”

“You what the worst part was for me?” said Abby. “I’d had my heart broken and all I wanted was my best friend to comfort me. But I couldn’t have that, because you were my best friend too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But like I said, it was a long time ago.”

They both sat there in silence for a while, looking out over the dark town, the few scattered lights still glowing in windows in a faint imitation of the glittering stars that crowded the vault of the night sky above. It was colder out here than Abby remembered it being as a teenager.

“I don’t really know _any_ of my friends from back then anymore,” she admitted aloud. “I wish I’d kept in touch with some of them now – it’s hard to make friends, as an adult. Remember how in elementary school you could just go up to someone and ask ‘Do you want to be my friend?’ Simple as that.” She smiled to herself, wistful. “Other people sort of fade into the background, when you get married. Jake and I had friends, but they were _our_ friends, not _my_ friends. There was this huge empty space whenever I saw them, afterwards. Like everyone was talking around the place where he used to be in every conversation. After a while I just stopped trying.”

Marcus was silent. Abby fiddled with her dressing gown cord idly, twirling it through her fingers. She couldn’t have said why she suddenly felt the need to lay herself open like this, other than it was the first chance she’d really had since Jake had died. And this place had always been somewhere she could talk freely.

“There are a couple of people at work who I think of as friends, I guess,” she continued. “And I still see Callie a couple of times every year, although it’s not always easy to travel that far. But apart from that...Clarke was all I had. Now she’s gone off to college to live her own life, and I’m right back here. Where I started.”

“It’s not so bad here,” said Marcus lightly, and Abby winced, realising how insulting she must have sounded to someone who had stayed in the same town his whole life.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know. But being back here doesn’t have to mean you’re moving backwards. Maybe you could see it as a fresh start instead? None of the people here knew your husband, but a lot of them knew you. This might be the best place to try and build a new life for yourself, instead of clinging onto the remains of the old one.”

Abby turned and stared at him, surprised, and he looked a little uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous...”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she said. “You’re right. It’s just...when did you get so wise?”

She expected another chuckle, but instead he just smiled, and the smile had a slight edge to it, a melancholy that she couldn’t place.

“I’ve lived my life too, you know,” he said.

Abby dropped her gaze, embarrassed without quite knowing why. The wind picked up a little, chastising, stinging her face and tugging at the loose strands of her hair. She shivered in the sudden chill, and beside her Marcus shifted, in a movement that suggested he had been about to put his arm around her as he had used to do, and remembered himself just in time.

“Abby?” he said, after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be my friend?”

She laughed, an unexpected burst of mirth at the absurdity of the situation that released the tension between them in an instant. Marcus grinned back at her, and she remembered with a sudden swoop in the pit of her stomach what had made him so irresistibly attractive to her all those years ago. For all that she thought she’d known him so well, he’d always had the ability to surprise her. ‘ _That boy has hidden depths’_ her mom had used to say, and Abby had felt privileged to be allowed just a glimpse of them, sometimes.

“I’d like that,” she said, returning his smile with one of her own.

“Meet you in the diner for lunch tomorrow?” Marcus said. “I’ll catch you up on everything you missed for the past twenty-three years.”

“You can do that in one lunch?” Abby asked.

“It’s a small town.”

She let out another breath of laughter. “Alright then, you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. “I hope you can remember my order.”

“Of course.”

There was the sense that they had overcome some hurdle, that they had said what needed to be said, and since it was only getting colder, Abby scrambled carefully to her feet, ready to head back inside. She felt lighter in spirit than she had in a long time.

Marcus stood up too, still looking slightly wary about the roof’s ability to not crumble away underneath his feet. She couldn’t blame him really – if anything he seemed even taller now than when she had known him, and his skinny teenage frame was distinctly more solid, muscular. Presumably cops had to keep themselves in shape, even in small towns.

Abby realised she was looking a little too long at him, and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, mercifully hidden by the dark. He was looking at her intently too, and she wondered if he was thinking of how they had usually parted with a kiss in those old days, before going back to their respective bedrooms.

Not wanting to spoil their reconciliation with an awkward moment, she kept her voice light as she said:

“Goodnight, Marcus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hesitated, as if to say something more, but in the end he just smiled.

“Goodnight Abby.”


	3. Time Enough

Prompt: _I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you.  I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer.  But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.)_

 

* * *

 

Marcus sat alone at his table, though there were plenty of people about by the bar at this time of day. Drinking alone was never a good look, but for now the only thing in the mug he was holding was tea – actually, he had finished it some time ago, and now was simply staring at the mug absently, lost in his own head. No-one had yet tried to disturb him, for which he was very grateful. For once, Arkadia rumbled on around him without needing his input, and he was left alone to his thoughts.

He couldn’t go on like this. Well...he probably _could_ , but he didn’t want to. It was like a slow torture, the longing, the not knowing, the agonising flashes of hope when Abby said something or did something that made him think that maybe...just maybe...

He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, he knew. There was talk around camp of the two of them, whispers and raised eyebrows and sly remarks. Sometimes it felt like the only two people _not_ talking about him and Abby were...well, him and Abby.

He had every reason to make an effort to change that fact, and yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The words seemed to dry up on his tongue whenever he was with her.

Marcus had been a lot of things in his life, but he didn’t think a coward had ever been one of them. He simply had to talk to her. It shouldn’t be hard – after all, they talked every day. And over the years he’d had many far more difficult conversations with Abby Griffin than this. He swivelled the empty mug idly in his hands as various opening lines swam round and round his head:

_Abby, I wanted to talk to you about us. Our relationship._

Too formal. Stilted. Presumptuous.

_Abby, do you have a moment? No, nothing’s wrong, it’s not business. It’s personal._

Far too dramatic.

_Abby, I’d like to clear the air..._

Even worse.

_Abby...things have been different between us lately, and I...think it’s not a bad change..._

_Abby, we both know what this is._

_Don’t we?_

_Please tell me you know what this is too because I’m so fucking terrified I’m wrong._

_Abby..._

_I think you’re beautiful and I would like to kiss you. Sometimes it’s all I can think about when we’re alone together. Or when we’re not alone. Or even when you’re not here at all..._

“Marcus!”

His head jerked up sharply, and he saw Abby standing beside the table, looking down at him with something that might have been amusement.

“Did I just make you jump?” she said. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.”

“Sorry,” said Marcus. “I was miles away.” He hoped fervently that he wasn’t blushing. He’d always coloured up very quickly as a boy, and it was something he’d worked very hard to overcome. “What do you need?”

“Nothing that can’t wait if you’re so drunk you’ve actually become deaf,” said Abby, and perched on the edge of the table casually beside him. Her legs didn’t quite reach the ground; it wasn’t a very dignified, Chancellor-like position, but she didn’t seem to care.

Marcus gestured to his mug. “Just tea,” he said, a touch defensively.

“Even worse, you’ve got no excuse at all.” She smiled at him to show she wasn’t serious. His heart squeezed in his chest. Did she know the effect she had on him when she smiled? She couldn’t possibly.

“I’ll leave you in peace, if you want,” she said, clearly sensing his distraction.

“No, I...actually I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?”

_Anything. Everything. Just the sound of your voice is enough._

“Nyko,” he said, picking a subject at random out of thin air. “Indra says he’d like to visit the camp, speak to you. An exchange of ideas I think – healer to healer, you know.”

“He’s sure about that?” asked Abby, frowning. “It’s a risk to him, from both sides. I’m surprised Indra would allow it.”

“Trikru have as much to gain from our knowledge as we have from theirs. I think Indra saw medical information as an easy way to start. A prelude to a more formal alliance in the future, if Lexa decides she can make it work.”

“Getting Trikru in with Skaikru on the quiet before a treaty with the clans is formalised, so that they can count on our support if the alliance falls apart and it comes to war with Azgeda?” asked Abby.

“Perhaps,” conceded Marcus. He could feel some of his tension unwind as his thoughts turned to less personal matters. “It may be Indra’s idea of a peace offering. Or it might be Lexa – she’s Trikru too, remember. Just our existence here has changed the balance of power between the clans significantly, I think. We have the guns, and they can’t afford to forget that. We couldn’t stand against the Commander’s coalition as a whole, but if it fractures we would make a powerful enemy or a powerful ally for whatever clan claimed our allegiance.”

Abby considered this and nodded. “Alright; it’s a good idea. And a good symbol of co-operation. I assume you can make sure Nyko isn’t in any danger while he’s inside Arkadia?”

“He’ll be watched around the clock, believe me,” said Marcus.

“I’m sure Lincoln will be happy to see him, anyway,” said Abby thoughtfully. “I know how cut off he feels from his people here. Nyko will be able to bring him news.”

“And then he might choose to share that news with us?” suggested Marcus.

“He might very well do. It’d be useful to know how things are going in Polis.” Abby smiled suddenly. “Politics. Just like old times, right Councillor Kane?”

He smiled back, a touch ruefully. It was and it wasn’t. Back on the Ark they had certainly spent a lot of their days around the Council table making alliances and pushing agendas and predicting outcomes, but he and Abby would rarely have been on the same page of any such discussion. They certainly never would have sat together like this, so informally; they would never have shared a joke, a smile, a confidence.

All those years, sitting across the table from each other, on opposite sides. What a waste.

“I suppose neither of us have ever been very good at going off-duty,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” said Abby. “I didn’t mean to make you talk business when you were trying to get a moment of peace.”

Marcus almost laughed at that, given how less-than-peaceful his thoughts had actually been when she’d turned up. But, strangely, he did feel more at peace now, just by her being there. These days, Abby seemed to be the problem and the solution all at once.

Perhaps that was just what it was like, when you fell in love with someone.

“It’s alright,” he said. “You didn’t interrupt anything – I was about to go and sort out the guard duty rosters anyway.”

“Want to use my quarters?” asked Abby. “I’ve got some things to look over too, and I’d like the company.” She looked uncharacteristically shy as she said it, her eyes flicking anxiously over his face for his response.

“I’d like that,” said Marcus, forcing his voice to remain neutral. “Having someone else there might keep me awake.”

She smiled again, genuine and warm. Marcus rose from his seat and Abby held out a hand automatically so that he could help her down off the table, and he...

_...reached across the space between them and cradled her sweet face in his hands, drawing her to him. He kissed her softly, deeply, moulding his mouth to hers as she opened for him with a sigh..._

No.

_She pushed him away, horrified, offended, angry. She snapped at him that he should know better, that they could never...that she would never..._

“Marcus, are you really alright?” said Abby gently, and he snapped back to reality to see she was looking at him with a soft, slightly puzzled expression. “You seem pretty out of it. How much sleep have you been getting?”

He felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth, amused – he doubted any of them had been getting much sleep since they came to the ground, and Abby less than most. But then, she had always been more careful of other people’s needs than her own.

“Enough,” he replied. He realised he was still holding her hand, and released it quickly. Abby looked at him thoughtfully, and then said:

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind. No more work. We’re going to get a drink instead.”

“We are?”

“A real drink. Doctor’s orders.”

“I should really—”

“Ah!” Abby held up a hand, her eyes bright with good humour. “I can make it Chancellor’s orders if that’s what it takes. Come on Marcus, we can have one night off.” To his surprise, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm briefly, a gentle, casually affectionate gesture that sent a warm rush of pleasure through his body.

“I think we can afford to relax just a little for a few hours,” she said. “We have time.”

Marcus hesitated, and then nodded, feeling a little of the weight lift from his shoulders as he did so.

“You’re right,” he said. “We have time.”


	4. Gymnophoria (drabble)

Prompt: _Gymnophoria – The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you._

 

* * *

 

“Stop looking at me like that, Marcus.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re imagining me naked.”

“This is just my normal look.”

Abby raised her eyebrows at him. Marcus smirked, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll try to control my looks.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t control how often I picture you naked though.”

“Marcus!”

“Now I know for sure that it’s as good as I imagined, it just makes things worse.”

Abby sighed. “You are _unbearably_ annoying when you’ve just gotten laid,” she remarked.

“In my defence,” said Marcus reasonably. “ _That_ at least is as much your fault as mine.”


	5. Duende (drabble)

Prompt: Duende - _Unusual power to attract or charm._

 

* * *

 

She must _know,_ thinks Marcus. She _can’t_ be unaware.

He watches the young grounder man – former Trikru, he thinks, by the armour – thank Abby profusely as the examination ends. His foot is healed, but he has the look that a lot of Abby’s patients have, of hopeless infatuation. He makes some remark that makes Abby break into a laugh, gazes wonderingly at the result, and visibly blushes as Abby offers him her hand to help him rise from the bed.

Marcus almost feels sorry for him. _Almost._

He glares at the man as he shuffles guilty past out of Medical.


	6. Strikhedonia (drabble)

Prompt: _Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”._

 

* * *

 

His legs hit the back of the bed and they tumble onto it together, kissing frantically, pulling at clothes.

Marcus moans as Abby’s hands slide under his shirt. “We should talk about this—”

“Talk later,” she mumbles against his lips. “Sex first.”

It’s probably the clumsiest seduction line in the history of romance, but he doesn’t care. Her hands are on his skin, her hips are straddling his own. She breaks the kiss to stare down at him, face flushed, breathless with desire.

Marcus pulls her back and rolls her over, pinning her underneath him.

_To hell with it._


	7. 3AM (AU)

Prompt: _‘Curling up on the sofa together, feet tucked under thighs and arms around shoulders, watch the kind of crap TV that only airs at 3am because they don’t want to untangle themselves to go to bed’_

 

* * *

 

 

“There must be something better on,” mumbles Abby, flicking through channels. “ _Celebrity Love Island, World’s Wildest Police Chases, Dog Cops: Paws On The Street...”_

“I think this is as good as it’s going to get at this time of night,” says Marcus.

“Urgh, old repeats of _Extreme Home Rescue_ it is then.”

“We could always go to bed,” suggests Marcus.

Abby makes a faint noise of protest. “I’m fine right here,” she says, wriggling closer so that her head is resting lazily in the crook of his neck. Marcus gives her a gentle squeeze with the arm he has wrapped around her by way of reply.

It’s so late it’s early, but neither of them have work tomorrow, and the little cocoon of warmth they’ve created snuggled together on the couch under Abby’s huge patchwork blanket is far too tempting to leave. Clarke is away on a camping trip with her friends from school. They have the house to themselves. For once, neither of them have anywhere to be.

Marcus strokes her arm affectionately, almost unconsciously, under the blanket. Pressed against him as she is, Abby can feel his chest rise and fall with every deep, even breath he takes.

From the look on Clarke’s face when Abby mentioned Marcus would be staying for the weekend while she was away, her daughter probably assumed that they would take the opportunity to have a whole lot of wild, loud sex. It’s almost certainly what _Clarke_ would have done if she and her girlfriend had the house to themselves for the weekend. Teenagers.

Not that wild, loud sex is off the table. But as she has gotten older, Abby has discovered that there are, in fact, more important things.

“I love this,” Marcus says, after a while.

Abby squints at the TV, where the Extreme Home Rescue Team are shaking their heads despairingly at what they’ve found behind the bathroom walls. “... _really?”_ she says.

Marcus chuckles. “Not _that_.” He nuzzles into her hair, pressing a light kiss against her temple. “I love this,” he murmurs.

Abby smiles. “Me too.”

There is a long, contented silence, and then Marcus says shyly:

“There is _one_ thing that would make it even better though...”

“You want me to change over to Dog Cops, don’t you?”

“Please.”


	8. Common Cause

Prompt: _“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

Abby looks up and cracks a weary smile. She gestures vaguely to the empty table at which she sits – no emptier than all the others of course, at this time of night. She is alone in the vast, dimly lit hall, but she appreciates Marcus making an attempt at humour, anyway.

“Be my guest,” she says wryly, and Marcus sits down opposite her.

“Can’t sleep?” he says, and Abby rolls her eyes.

“You’re up too,” she points out.

He has no answer to that, just shrugs. They sit in silence for a while; companionable, she thinks, rather than awkward. The absolute lack of sound is still somewhat strange to her though, after a lifetime surrounded by machine hum, and so after a while she feels compelled to speak if only to break it.

“You know, it’s easy to forget sometimes, when I’m inside,” she says. “Where we are, I mean. Sometimes I _do_ forget, just for a moment. I wake up thinking I’m still on the Ark.”

Marcus looks at her with something like sympathy, or perhaps curiosity. “Do you miss it?” he asks. “The Ark?”

“Sometimes.” The real answer is more complicated, but it’s full of things too painful and too personal to talk about, even to him. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and from his voice she wonders if this is the first time he’s really thought about it, asked himself that question. “I didn’t particularly love the Ark while I was on it. I didn’t hate it either. It was just...there. It was everything there was. It always seemed so permanent...I suppose a part of me still doesn’t really believe it’s gone.” He gives her a rueful smile, acknowledging the foolishness of the sentiment. “It still feels as though it’s all still there, up there somewhere, with all its people just waiting for us to return.”

His voice is now quieter, a little contemplative, and Abby understands in some bone-deep way that he is thinking of his mother. Marcus hardly had time to grieve for Vera in the chaos before coming to the ground. Abby herself had a year after losing Jake and Clarke together, a year to come to terms with the comfortable illusions of the life she thought she had being shattered so violently. But the divide is so sharp for Marcus – one life up there, another down here. Everything that has changed him, everything he’s been through, the things that might have broken a weaker man, have happened in such a short space of time.

Abby doesn’t miss the Marcus Kane she knew back on the Ark. She wishes she could tell him that, but can’t think of a way to do so without being insulting.

“You know what I miss?” she says instead. “The Earth.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows. “Forgotten where we are already?” he says.

“I mean...I guess I mean what we _thought_ the Earth was. The _dream_ of Earth, that’s what I miss. All the things we used to talk about, to read about, all the ideas we had of what it would be like when our great grandchildren finally made it down there...”

She catches a flicker of something in Marcus’ eyes, and feels a brief tug of guilt. That is, of course, not a conversation he would ever have had. She and Jake had talked about it; Marcus never had a child. She’d never really been sure why.

“We never thought any of us would live to see the ground,” she continues, brushing past the awkward moment for his sake as much as her own. “But we all thought about it so much it was a huge part of our lives. For everyone. Clarke used to draw pictures of it, you know.” She smiles at the memory, a little sadly. “Forests and rivers, that kind of thing. Things she had seen in the old vids.”

Marcus nods. “I remember. I did the same thing as a child.”

“It bound us all together,” says Abby. “We all had the dream of Earth in common, it was what everything was _for_ , in the end. I miss that. Now that we’re here...” She sighs, more weary than melancholy. “I guess if you dream of something your whole life, the reality never really lives up to your expectations.”

“I don’t know,” says Marcus, softly. “It might not be what we expected, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Just because the thing you dreamed of ended up happening in a very different way from how you had imagined, doesn’t mean it has to a disappointment. It...could even be better, in the end.”

There’s a weight to his words that makes Abby feel a little shy suddenly, aware that he is perhaps talking about more than just what’s on the surface of the conversation now. It’s another feeling that she can’t quite clarify, intangible in this strange, unexpectedly intimate moment.

“How do you mean?” she says.

Marcus smiles. “Because we still have something to work towards,” he says. “Now we’re here, we have the chance to make our lives here into what we always thought they would be. That’s something we still all have in common. The dream of Earth hasn’t gone away – it’s just a bit more immediate now, that’s all.”

“When did you become such an optimist?”

“You’re a very bad influence on me.”

Abby feels a flush of pleasure at his words, his smile, the affection clear in his voice. She glances down at the table, where her hands are clasped together in an unconscious mockery of prayer.

“Do you really think we can make this work, Marcus?” She’s not sure herself what she’s asking now, whether she’s speaking of Earth, of Arkadia, or of just the two of them, here together. She’s nervous that he’ll interpret her words the wrong way, and wonders what exactly the wrong way _is_ , when she hardly knows herself.

To her surprise, he reaches out to her hands across the table, covering them gently in his own for a moment. It’s warm, a sudden tangible link between the two of them that she wouldn’t have given a second thought to from anyone else, but from Marcus seems startling in its intimacy.

She looks up and meets his eyes. His gaze is warm and steady.

“I know we can,” he replies.


	9. Nightmares

Prompt: _“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”_

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon before Marcus found Abby, not in Medical or her quarters, but sitting at the firepit, reading something on her datapad. It was a pleasant enough day, weather-wise, but undeniably cold, and Abby had never shown any real inclination to work outside before, so the discovery of her location simply confirmed what he had already suspected.

He sat down next to her, not bothering with a greeting, and said:

“You’re avoiding me.”

Abby didn’t reply at once, which she must have realised was as good as a confirmation. She sighed, and laid the pad down on her knees, not looking at him. “Yes. I’m sorry, it was childish of me. Did you need something?”

Marcus couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt at that. “No, I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said. “Since you cancelled our meeting this morning and I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’m fine.”

There was a short silence.

“...and that I hadn’t done anything to annoy you that I hadn’t realised,” Marcus prompted.

“You haven’t.”

He waited for another long moment, but there didn’t seem to be anything more forthcoming. Slightly exasperated now, he started:

“Abby...”

“I had a nightmare about you,” she interrupted, the words coming out in a rush, as though once released she wanted to at least get it over with as quickly as possible. “That’s all.”

Marcus stared at her, suddenly wrong-footed. Of all the things he had expected, this wasn’t one of them. But perhaps it was inevitable, after all. He wondered how many times this had happened before, and decided he probably didn’t want to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Abby, her overly casual tone belied by the fact that she still wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. “I just...it just made it a bit strange seeing you today. It’ll pass.”

“Alright,” said Marcus, matching her tone as best he could. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you told me. And...” He hesitated, but she had been honest with him, so he owed her this much at least. “For what _this_ is worth...I’m sorry. For whatever I did.”

Abby glanced up at him, frowning. “...what?”

“I don’t mean you have to tell me,” added Marcus hastily. “It’s none of my business. But whatever it was, I’m guessing it must have been pretty bad to get under your skin like this. So if it was a memory of something I did before, or..., well, whatever it was I’m sorry.”

Now Abby was the one staring at him, and to his surprise her frown suddenly cleared and her face took on an expression of utter astonishment.

“Marcus, do you think I had nightmare _about you?_ ” she said.

“You just told me you did.”

“No, I mean...I mean I had a nightmare with you _in_ it, I didn’t mean you _were_ the nightmare!” She sounded horrified. “God, how could you even—”

She bit off the end of her sentence, and to his dismay Marcus realised that while before she had just seemed thoughtful and a little awkward, she now looked genuinely upset. Abby could be a very self contained person when she wanted to be, but he had known her for long enough to recognise the signs – the tightness around her mouth as she stared unseeing into the ashes of the firepit, the way her hands gripped the pad on her lap.

“You were floated,” she said quietly, after a brief pause that felt like a lifetime. “That was my nightmare. You were floated and there was nothing I could do.”

“Abby...”

He reached out a hand instinctively to...he didn’t really know. To comfort, to reassure, to apologise again. But before he could touch her shoulder, Abby stood abruptly, grabbing her datapad from her knees.

“Stupid, isn’t it?” she said, looking down at him with a smile of horribly false amusement. “It’s not as if any of us can ever be floated now, after all. But there’s no accounting for the subconscious.”

Marcus had no answer to that, or at least no answer he could possibly voice out loud.

_I dream of you too_ , he thought. _I dream of the airlock. I may not be the monster in your nightmares, but I am in mine._

“I need to get back to Medical,” said Abby. “I’ll see you later, Marcus.” And without waiting for a response, she turned and strode away across the camp.

Marcus watched her small figure recede into the distance, but made no attempt to follow.


	10. Distractions (drabble)

Prompt: _“You have something in your hair - let me get it for you.”_

 

* * *

 

“You have a leaf in your hair.”

Before Abby comprehends what’s happening, Marcus reaches over and plucks it out, a casual gesture, as though this sort of easy intimacy is nothing strange for them. She feels a flicker of something as his hand brushes against her face, a rush of heat, a sudden _awareness_ of herself.

“Thank you,” she says, awkwardly.

“It was distracting me,” he replies, something defensive in his tone, as though suddenly he feels the need to justify what he just did.

“I guess it’s going to happen a lot.”

Marcus avoids her eyes. “I guess so.”


	11. Sleeping Arrangements

Prompt: _‘Person A hogs all the covers and person B’s solution is to spoon them’_

 

* * *

 

Marcus didn’t sleep well on the ground.

It wasn’t, strangely enough, the fault of the ground itself; the hardness of the earth, the sound of the wind, the feeling of the vast open sky above, and only the thin layer of tent between him and the void. He knew some people were having trouble with that, but it was still more of a wonder than a terror to him.

Nor was it the stress of the war between Grounders and Mountain Men they found themselves tangled up in that made his nights restless. After recent events on the Ark he was, after all, used to dealing with difficult circumstances.

It wasn’t even the pain in his leg, although the fresh wound troubled him more than he had admitted to Abby. He was lucky to be alive at all, and to still have the use of his leg, if it came to that. Others had far worse injuries.

No, the real reason Marcus found himself sleeping fitfully even after an exhausting day, the reason he was currently lying on his back staring up at the plastic orange roof of the tent with a feeling of familiar annoyance was simply this: he was utterly unused to not sleeping _alone._

Such a simple thing, and yet apparently it was enough, in some primal animal part of his brain, to throw his usual deep sleep completely off-balance. He hadn’t slept in the same room with another person, let alone in such close quarters, since he was a child. And now he was so _aware_ of the people around him, the faint rustling of their movements, the steady sounds of their breathing. His mind wouldn’t let him relax, and even when he did fall asleep he seemed to wake at the slightest provocation.

It did make _sense_ , of course, to share a tent with several other people. The air outside was bitterly cold, and the easiest way to keep warm was to pack as much body heat into the space as possible. More than just lives had been lost in the bombing of Tondc – it had been a key staging area, and half their supplies had been destroyed in the chaos. Sleeping bags were in short supply, and blankets not much better. Most of what little they had was given to try and ease the suffering of the injured.

Marcus sighed. His vague thoughts had coalesced into full wakefulness once more, and by the faint grey light that filtered through the walls of the tent, he guessed it was close to dawn. Not much sense in trying to get back to sleep now. His leg ached like hell but he was at least relatively warm, which...

_Ah._

He was warm because at some point during the night he had apparently dragged most of the blankets around himself in something approaching a cocoon. Turning his head sideways he could see that Abby was lying next to him with little more than a corner of material draped over her legs. Though they were of course all still fully dressed, her body was curled up tightly in an instinctive attempt to conserve heat, and Marcus felt a surge of guilt. Even unconsciously done, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of his selfish instinct, and glad that no-one else had yet woken to notice it. Just because he was unused to sharing his bed with anyone—

_Not_ that he and Abby were...well. They were _technically_ , he supposed, although the distinction didn’t make him feel any better about the dangerous thought that had just crossed his mind. Still, he told himself firmly, by that token he was also sleeping with David Miller, for a start. It didn’t mean anything. Marcus was the only one uncomfortable with this arrangement, and that was his problem, not Abby’s.

Perhaps tomorrow night he would try and subtly find a way to share a tent that didn’t include her.

For now, he turned a little to pull the blankets off himself and try to slide them as gently as possible over Abby’s sleeping form. Her expression looked troubled, even in sleep, and she looked smaller somehow, unexpectedly vulnerable. She stirred slightly as he leaned over, which made him hold his breath, but didn’t wake, and when Marcus lay back to resume his pointless staring at the tent roof he felt a little easier in conscience at least.

With a faint sigh, Abby rolled over and nestled into his side, one arm dropping casually onto his chest.

Since Marcus had been using his folded hands to rest his head on, his arms weren’t laying by his sides and there was no barrier between them. He was suddenly, e _xquisitely_ aware of every soft, warm curve of her body pressed against him, and the undeniable fact that it was not at all an unpleasant sensation. He realised that in his shock he had forgotten to breathe, but when he drew in a slightly shaky, shallow breath all that happened was that he inhaled the subtle scent of her hair, her skin....

No – he shouldn’t think about her skin.

_God_ , he was in trouble. Far more trouble than in just this particular moment, he realised.

Perhaps sensing, even asleep, the frozen stiffness of his body, the pounding of his pulse, Abby shifted slightly against him. “Mmm, stop hogging the covers Jake,” she mumbled.

It was several long moments before Marcus could speak.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“What time is it?”

“Too early. Go back to sleep.”

He wasn’t sure if she heard him, as she said nothing more. Marcus lay there, paralysed as much by the unexpected maelstrom of emotion swirling in his chest as by caution. Eventually, when he was absolutely sure of the deep, even rhythm of Abby’s breathing, he rolled her gently away from him, making sure that the blankets went with her. It was risking waking her up, he knew, but he couldn’t bear her closeness a moment longer. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

She didn’t wake. Marcus couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or not.

But he made sure to be long gone from the tent by the time she woke later that morning.


	12. The First

Prompt: _Marcus with a baby <3_

 

* * *

 

When he missed her at breakfast, Marcus decided to go and find Abby in Medical before he started on the rest of his work for the day. He didn’t actually have anything particular to consult her about, but he had gotten into the habit of seeing her every morning and felt strangely unsettled at the idea of not getting a chance to do so.

Besides, he had a shrewd idea of why she might have been held up and wanted to see if he was right. It seemed half the camp was waiting for news too, as he sensed a certain tension in the air as he walked through Arkadia. When he entered Medical, he discovered that his suspicions were correct, and the anxiety of those waiting for news thankfully unfounded.

Shelley Skerritt was fast asleep in bed, looking so exhausted that a full blown war breaking out probably wouldn’t wake her. Beside her, Abby was sitting in a chair, looking fairly worn out herself and holding a tiny baby wrapped in blankets.

She looked up as Marcus approached, and he realised with a jolt that she was crying, silvery tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“Did everything go...?” he asked cautiously.

“Everything went perfectly,” smiled Abby. “Mother and baby both healthy. Official time of birth was 6:30AM this morning. I sent Jackson to get some sleep, but I got a little stuck myself.”

Marcus smiled back at her, relieved at her apparent certainty but still slightly concerned. “Are you alright?” he said gently.

“Hmm? Oh!” Abby reached up with her spare hand and touched the moisture on her cheeks, apparently surprised. “I hadn’t noticed. I’m fine. Just...well, you know.” She glanced down at the baby, a little self consciously. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she said.

From what Marcus could see of the baby, it was raw and pink and wrinkled, with a screwed up little face and a thin thatch of dark hair stuck to its head. It resembled a human being only in the most basic of ways. Nonetheless it was with complete honesty that he replied: “Yes, she is.”

“Do you want to hold her?”

“What? No, I...” Marcus floundered, wondering if Abby had only asked to see his panic. “I couldn’t.”

“Shelley won’t mind,” said Abby. “We were all passing her round like a Unity Day gift earlier.”

“But I’ve never—”

“Please, Marcus? I could really use a break. Just while I run to the bathroom.”

He nodded mutely, not daring to protest any further, and Abby stood up and carefully passed him the baby. He managed to tuck it – _her_ – gingerly into the crook of his arm. She was heavier than he would have imagined.

“Thank you,” said Abby, and left the room in something of a hurry. Marcus stood there staring after her, feeling rather as though she had just left him holding a ticking bomb.

He looked down at the baby. She was a strange little thing – it was still a conscious effort not to think of her as ‘it’, difficult to see her as a tiny human being rather than something like a doll. Her little hands were screwed up into fists, and her mouth was open. He tried to see some resemblance to her mother asleep in the bed nearby, but couldn’t make any out. Babies just looked like babies.

Clarke Griffin had always looked more like Jake than her mother, he thought. The same fair hair, blue eyes...as a teenager she was already a good inch taller than Abby. If there was a resemblance between the two women of the family, it was only a passing one. A certain stubborn set around the jawline, maybe. Marcus wondered if Abby had been disappointed that Clarke took after her father so much. He wondered if it made things harder for Abby now, to look at Clarke and see so clearly the ghost of Jake.

Perhaps Shelley would have the same problem. Marcus didn’t know who the father of her baby was, but it was clear that he wasn’t around, one way or another. He supposed, given everything that had happened to their people, this baby should consider herself lucky to be growing up with _one_ parent, at least. That was more than a lot of children had, now.

Almost as if she had sensed the grim tenor of his thoughts, the baby in his arms stirred suddenly. She hadn’t opened her eyes – Marcus wondered if she even could, maybe that was something that only happened later – but she was clearly awake. Her little hands opened and closed convulsively and she made a small noise that might have been either a yawn or the beginnings of a wail. Either way it didn’t seem like a happy sound.

Marcus tried very hard not to panic, in case babies could somehow sense fear.

“Shhh...” he whispered vaguely. “It’s alright. It’s alright...” He wasn’t sure whether it would make a difference, but the last thing he wanted was for Abby to come back to find a crying baby had woken her patient because he couldn’t keep it happy for five minutes.

He bounced up and down lightly on the balls of his feet as the baby squirmed a little, flailing her little hands ineffectually. Then, struck by some sudden instinct that must have come from bone-deep species memory, Marcus moved his free hand so that his finger rested lightly in the palm of one of hers. Immediately, tiny fingers curled tightly around his own. The baby stopped squirming, apparently putting all her efforts into the vice-like grip. Marcus felt a thrill of something like pride.

“There,” he said quietly. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“You two seem to be getting along,” said Abby, and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway, watching him with a small smile. She walked over to him and Marcus managed to hand the baby back to her, a rather tricky operation that involved prying the tiny hand from his finger and substituting Abby’s. Marcus felt an irrational sense of loss when he stood back and the baby was in Abby’s arms once more. For all her eagerness to escape a few minutes ago, he noticed, Abby looked happy to have her back again. She looked down at the baby’s pink, screwed up face and said, thoughtfully:

“The first Ark baby to be born on Earth...strange, isn’t it? She’ll be called ‘Skaikru’ for her whole life, but she’ll never know anything but the ground. The Ark will only ever be a story to her.”

She looked up and met Marcus’ eyes, looking almost wistful. “It makes me realise that it really is over,” she said. “Our lives up there. It’s really all gone.”

Before he could answer, Shelley stirred in the bed nearby, and they both turned to look at her. Blinking blearily into wakefulness, she focused automatically on Abby and the bundle in her arms, and asked: “What time is it?”

“Nearly nine,” said Abby. “You’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours.”

Shelley nodded, and then her gaze slid to Marcus, apparently noticing him for the first time. She sat up a little straighter in bed.

“Oh! Councillor Kane...”

Marcus didn’t miss the slight edge of tension in her voice, the nervous flicker of her eyes from him to her baby. Their previous lives might be gone, he thought, but they were not forgotten. Not so easily. Whatever opinion newborn babies had of him, to many of his people he was never going to be anything remotely like a comforting presence.

“Congratulations,” he said, a touch awkwardly, and nodded towards the baby. “She’s beautiful.”

Shelley seemed to relax a little. “Thank you,” she said.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” asked Abby, walking over and passing the little bundle to Shelley, who took her with a practised ease that suggested her own was not the first baby _she’d_ held, at least. She looked down at her daughter tenderly.

“I had a few ideas,” she said, seeming as if she were talking to the baby as much as them. “I wanted a name that wouldn’t mark her out as too strange to the Grounders when she grows up, so I asked Lincoln when he was here too. He said names are very important to his people. They always mean something.” She paused, and then said shyly: “I thought...I thought I might call her Sky. You know, because she’s the first one of us to be born down here and...well, I want her to remember where we came from.” She glanced anxiously at Abby and Marcus. “Too on the nose?”

Marcus looked at the tiny sleeping face. Suddenly she seemed very real; a _person._ A girl who would grow up with the earth beneath her feet and the sun on her skin, who would play in the grass and climb trees and travel to other villages, and never have to know what it felt like to be hungry all the time, or to see someone she loved floated. Abby was right – the Ark would only ever be a story to her, a tale of the way things used to be. She wouldn’t have to live with the memories of what life was like up there.

She would be free, in a way they never had been, never would be.

_Sky._

“No,” said Abby quietly from beside him, and she sounded as though she might be close to tears again. “I think it’s perfect.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who sent me this prompt - sorry it's not actually like... _his_ baby. I'm not much a of a kabby baby theory person, but I hope you like this anyway :P


	13. Friendship

 

Prompt: _“I want to be more than just friends with you.”_

 

* * *

 

“Abby, I have a confession to make.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be more than just friends with you.”

Abby considered this. “Mmm, I got that impression, actually,” she said.

“What gave me away?” said Marcus, nuzzling into her hair with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a few things. Little hints, you know, nothing I could my finger on.” She reached down lazily to where his arm was thrown across her waist, and drew his hand up to entwine her fingers with his. “A look, a tone of voice...the fact that five minutes ago you were fucking me senseless for the third time today. I mean, that was a clue.”

“Damn, and here I thought I was being so subtle.”

“You were never subtle, Marcus.”

“...never?”

“I noticed every single time you had to drag your eyes away from my breasts.”

There was a brief silence. “Is there any chance you might take that as a compliment?” said Marcus hopefully.

Abby laughed. “If I didn’t, you’d already be dead.”

She felt him laugh too, a deep chuckle of delight reverberating through his body. The warm, solid presence of him pressed up against her back made her feel drowsily secure, safe in the knowledge that she could drift off to sleep and Marcus would still be right there when she awoke.

Perhaps it should have frightened her, that sense of permanence, but instead it was only comforting. It felt as though in some way he had been there all along. Having his arms around her and his bare skin against hers felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“For what it’s worth,” Marcus murmured. “I really liked being your friend, Abby.”

She smiled to herself. “Me too.”

“Falling desperately, passionately in love with you was a terrible inconvenience.”

“I can imagine.” She squeezed his hand affectionately in hers. “Actually, I don’t have to.”

“Promise you won’t hold it against me?”

“I think I can forgive you.”

She wriggled around in his arms until she was facing him, and captured his mouth in a slow, tender kiss. When they broke apart, Abby couldn’t help but smile at the look of dreamy contentment on his face.

“When did you know?” she asked softly, because this seemed like a moment for that question, and she hadn’t asked it yet.

Marcus smiled back, but hesitated for a moment before he answered. “Mount Weather,” he said simply.

Abby felt a little tug of pain in her chest at the tone of his voice. “Oh Marcus...”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he said. “And I realised that you were everything to me.” He kissed her for a brief, delicate moment, the gentlest press of his lips against hers. “ _Everything_ ,” he murmured. He let the word breathe for a moment between them, giving it the weight it deserved, and then kissed the tip of her nose lightly, breaking the tension of the moment.

“What about you?” he asked.

Abby shook her head slightly. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I think there was something there for a long time, before I could admit it even to myself. I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination, that it would never come to anything, that it couldn’t be like that between us, but...” She sighed, not in regret exactly, but a kind of wistful reminiscence. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted. “About you. About us. I don’t think we could ever really have been just friends, Marcus.”

Marcus exhaled thoughtfully. “Maybe not,” he said. “I’m a terrible friend. I really do look at your breasts a _lot_.”

Abby laughed, and Marcus grinned unashamedly back. He wrapped his arm tightly around her as she snuggled into his side, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“I really _did_ like being your friend,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But I like this better.”

Abby let her eyes drift closed, sliding her hand up his chest to rest over the soft, steady beat of his heart beneath his skin.

“So do I,” she said.


	14. Happy Returns

Prompt: _Don’t tell anyone you saw me crying_

 

* * *

 

 

She shouldn’t have let herself be alone, Abby realised later.

That had been her problem. She had spent the entire day – the entirety of the last few weeks, really – running herself ragged, taking extra shifts in Medical, working late into the night on her personal research projects. She spent as little time as possible in her quarters. She had made sure to deliberately exhaust herself to the point that when she caught a rare few hours of sleep, they were solid and dreamless.

No-one had tried to stop her from doing any of this. Abby doubted anyone would dare, these days.

But today even all that hadn’t been enough. After her shift she hadn’t been able to face going back to her empty room, and her empty bed, and her empty heart. So instead she had come here, to the Alpha Station Observation Room, to look down at the Earth. The room was vacant at this time of night, since there was nothing particularly special to see on the Earth’s surface right now, no dramatic storms or winter snow, and Abby had the place to herself. Since she was a child the sight of the Earth spinning slowly below them had always made her feel a little melancholy but...steadier, somehow, a reminder that she was a part of something bigger, that they all were. Today it just made her feel small.

And she was alone. There was nothing to distract her from it, no escape from the immense, dark chasm of anguish in her chest. It had been nearly a month. A month since Jake was floated, a month since Clarke had been taken away to the Skybox, a month since everything in Abby’s life had crumbled around her. And tomorrow...

Tomorrow was Clarke’s birthday.

Her little girl would be turning seventeen years old.

In her cell, alone.

Abby felt the first great sob of grief tear from her throat, and made no effort to stop it. She sank to her knees in front of the window, the Earth becoming nothing more than a pale glowing blur as her eyes filled with tears. She buried her face in her hands as the horror of it all overwhelmed her, great, wrenching sobs shaking her to the core until she could hardly breathe, until she thought the pain of it might tear her apart—

“Abby?”

The voice was like a jolt of electricity right to her heart – Abby jerked violently in pure shock and scrambled clumsily to her feet, whirling around to face the sound.

Kane was standing in the open doorway.

Of _course._ Because it would _have_ to be the absolute last person Abby wanted to see right now.

She must have looked quite a sight, silhouetted in the window against the glowing curve of the Earth, her face crumpled and streaked with tears, because even the usually unflappable Kane looked taken aback.

“Are you...?”

He trailed off, obviously realising what a stupid question he was about to ask, since he’d just caught her sobbing like a child on the floor in a dark, empty room. Even through her eyes were blurry with tears, Abby could see that he looked profoundly uncomfortable. Under any other circumstances she might have taken a kind of vindictive pleasure in that – Kane might act high and mighty and all-knowing, but when faced with a crying woman he was just like any other man.

No, not any other man. If Jake had come across her like this, he would have known exactly what to do; he would have crossed the room in a few strides and pulled her into his arms, held her as she cried, kissed the top of her head, murmured comforting words. He would have stroked her hair and called her ‘sweetheart’, and when she’d calmed down he would have made her a cup of tea, because he took after his mother in believing that tea could cure pretty much any problem a person might have.

The image was so clear in her mind and she wanted it so badly that for a moment Abby could hardly breathe again. She could feel another flood of tears wrenching their way out of her, clawing up her throat. Across the room, Kane made a sudden abortive movement, as if he almost meant to come closer but thought better of it. All of a sudden she hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life, a vicious, irrational hatred that threatened to consume her entirely. She hated him for having the stupid bad luck to be the one to find her like this, she hated him for standing there like a  fucking spare part and not _doing_ something, even if it was only admonish her, and most of all she hated him in this moment for not being Jake.

“Get the hell out, Kane,” she choked, swallowing her tears.

“Abby...” he said quietly, and the pity in his voice was the final straw.

“Get _out_ ,” she snapped, although it came out as more of a hysterical sob. Still, to his credit, for once in his life Kane actually listened to her. He hesitated for only a moment before leaving, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

Leaving her alone.

 

* * *

 

 

Abby didn’t get much sleep that night, and awoke the next morning feeling as miserable as she had expected, with a side order of humiliation from her encounter the night before. Her entire morning was due to be taken up by a Council meeting, and the very thought of having to sit there across the table from Councillor Kane and try to meet his eyes was almost unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the thought of Clarke, sitting alone with no one to—

Abby tried to shake the thought. She _couldn’t_ let it take hold of her again or she’d fall apart. She had work to do. She briefly considered having a drink to fortify herself against the demons that threatened to follow her around all day, but decided against it – that was a long slippery slope to start down, and there was a chance that Kane might notice if she turned up to the meeting even a little fuzzy around the edges today. He could be annoyingly perceptive in that way.

No, this was a day for getting through, simple as that. There had been a lot of those days recently, and Abby had learned to face them head on. So she took a deep breath and left the safety of her quarters for the Council Chambers.

However, when she arrived, only the Chancellor was sitting inside at his usual place, reading something on a datapad. He looked up when she entered, instinctively glancing around for the others.

“Ah, Abby,” he said. “Sorry, but there’s been a last minute change of plans. The meeting has been cancelled.”

“Cancelled?” Abby blinked, completely thrown. The meeting has been an important one, and she’d heard nothing about this. “Why?”

“Councillor Kane,” replied Jaha. “He contacted me early this morning and said he was feeling unwell, and would be unable to attend. As we were planning a vote, I thought it best not to proceed without him.”

“He’s unwell?” Abby frowned. “He hasn’t been into Medical.”

At least, she didn’t _think_ he had. She hadn’t checked in with the doctor on call overnight yet, but she was pretty sure someone would have contacted her directly if a fellow Councillor had come in with a serious medical complaint.

“Well, you know Kane,” said Jaha, with what sounded like more annoyance than affection. “I doubt he’d bother Medical until he was at death’s door. In fact that was why I didn’t simply call you to let you know about the meeting – the morning is your own of course, but I was hoping you might check in on Kane to make sure it’s really nothing serious.”

“Thelonius, I don’t think—”

The Chancellor held up a hand to stem her response. “I’m well aware of your issues with Councillor Kane, Abby,” he said. “I’m making this a request only because I trust your sense of duty to ensure that _every_ member of the Ark under your care is in good health. For the good of all of us.”

His sanctimonious words stuck in Abby’s throat, partly because he had a point and partly because this was a conversation they would never have had to have a few weeks ago. Back when they trusted each other, when they were on the same page...Thelonius would simply have asked her to check on Kane as a favour to him, and she would have done it.

She’d lost more than just her family when Jake was floated.

“Yes sir,” she said quietly, and turned to leave without another word. She didn’t want to see the sadness or the judgement in her old friend’s eyes when he looked at her anymore.

Her disappointment curdled into anger as she walked swiftly through the corridors, heading to see – once again – the very last person she wanted to have to deal with on a day like today. Thelonius should have known that too; even if he didn’t remember himself that today was Clarke’s birthday, Wells certainly would have told him. Which meant he didn’t _care_. The Chancellor had made his choice when Abby had gone to him about Jake, and he was sticking to it, not holding onto one scrap of sympathy for what their relationship had once been, not giving her a moment of the compassion she would have shown him had their situations been reversed.

And then there was Kane. Smug, arrogant, Councillor Marcus Kane, who had somehow taken a bad situation and made it a hundred times _worse_. She had been ready for this meeting. She had been ready for this day. She had accepted it, worked herself up to it, and now Kane had pulled it out from under her damn feet. And any relief she might have felt at the reprieve was overwhelmed by anger because she knew exactly _why_ he had done it.

She was crackling with fury by the time she reached Kane’s quarters, and when she hammered rudely on the door it opened almost right away to reveal the man in question, looking perfectly well. The flames of her anger were only stoked by the expression of cool acknowledgement on his face. He had been expecting her. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to pretend to be ill enough to take more than a few seconds to answer the door.

Abby barged inside without being invited.

“You’re faking sick to skip work?” she snapped, as soon as the door was closed behind her.

“Abby...”

“ _You._ Marcus Kane. Are faking sick to skip a boring Council meeting.”

Kane looked at her without answering for long enough that she started to feel slightly uncomfortable, and then said carefully:

“I thought it best that the meeting not go forward today. When some of us would be...distracted. By other things.”

The anger inside Abby boiled over, and she stepped forward, glaring up at him, her fists clenched by her sides.

“You mean _me_ ,” she hissed. “You mean you didn’t think I could handle this meeting because I would be too...too...” She could hardly put her thoughts into words. “You thought I couldn’t handle it!” she repeated, daring him to deny it.

Marcus exhaled slowly before speaking, looking annoyingly calm. “I know today is—”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” snarled Abby, far beyond reason. “How dare you? I can still do my _job_ , Kane. I don’t need your help, or your _pity_.”

Deep down she knew her anger was more than this situation warranted, but it was the only thing she dare let herself feel right now, and so she gave it full reign. Kane was at least an acceptable target, and he looked as unperturbed by her attack as she had expected.

“Then I’ll remember to withhold both in the future,” he said, a touch of coldness in his voice.

“ _Good_.”

“I have a message for you, from Clarke.”

Abby, having been on the point of storming out, froze in place, sure she must have misheard. “You...what?”

Kane regarded her impassively. “She says she’s alright,” he said, “and she’ll see you in a year when she turns eighteen.”

Abby stared at him, the anger draining away and leaving her feeling strangely empty. For a long moment she had no idea what to think. That Kane would lie about this was unthinkable – it would be a pointless deception and a deliberate cruelty that she couldn’t believe him capable of. But the fact that he was telling the truth and this really was a genuine message from Clarke meant...

“But...” she said haltingly, “you can’t bring a message from someone in solitary. No contact with anyone outside the Guard is permitted.”

“I’m aware of that,” said Kane. Before she could even consider how to respond, he walked over to the door and opened it. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor Griffin,” he said, “I’m feeling unwell today. Please pass on my apologies to the rest of the Council.”

He held the door for her, his face unreadable. Still dumbfounded, Abby couldn’t think of anything to do but leave. Kane closed the door after her, and she found herself standing in the corridor outside, so completely wrong-footed by the entire exchange that it was several minutes before she got a hold of herself enough to start walking back to her own quarters.

The words from Clarke finally started to sink in as she walked, replaying endlessly in her head, driving all thoughts of Kane away. Abby had never gone so long without speaking to her daughter, but now instead of imagining her curled up alone on the bed in her cell, she could picture her standing there, brave and unbroken, speaking to the man who might one day have the power to float her.

“ _Tell her I’m alright, and I’ll see her in a year when I turn eighteen.”_

Abby felt a burning knot of pride tighten in her chest at her daughter’s continued defiance. Whatever Clarke feared might happen to her, outwardly she still hadn’t given up hope of being free again. _I’ll see you in a year._ It had been a message to Kane as much as it was to her, and the thought of Clarke so emphatically refusing to give in to her circumstances filled Abby with a mixture of grief and fierce love. She was so like her father.

_I’ll see you in a year when I turn eighteen._

In a year’s time, review or no, the air crisis would be critical. It wouldn’t only be Clarke’s life that would be in danger. Abby stopped suddenly, and turned on her heel to head towards Medical. If she had a free morning, she couldn’t afford to waste it. Time was something none of them had much of now.

_I’ll see you in a year._

She had work to do.

 

* * *

 


	15. Powers of Persuasion

 

Prompt: _“I can’t keep this conversation going if you don’t put on pants/a shirt.”_

 

* * *

 

“We can trust Indra.”

Abby sighed. “I’m not saying we can’t,” she said. “I’m just saying that Trikru won’t like the idea of an Ice Nation King being Commander.”

“We all have more important things to worry about than who’s in charge right now,” said Marcus distractedly. He was pacing the room again; half dressed and already trying to think three steps ahead before the sun had even properly risen.

“They don’t _know_ that,” Abby pointed out, watching Marcus pace and trying not think about the reason they hadn’t had this conversation last night. They had _started_ to, but they had little enough time together, and worrying about the current political climate in Polis was rarely at the top of their minds when they got a moment alone. “No-one knows about the radiation,” she said, making an effort to clear her mind of anything but their current discussion.

“Indra does. She knows the stakes.”

“Indra isn’t everyone in Trikru.”

Marcus ran his hands through his hair in a now familiar gesture of frustration. “Ah, we’re just talking in circles,” he said, and stopped pacing to lean against the window, looking out unseeing. He sighed deeply. The dawn threw soft shadows across the planes of his bare chest and burnished his dark hair with gold.

“I don’t—” Abby closed her eyes briefly in frustration. “For God’s sake Marcus, if you want to continue this conversation, you are going to _have_ to put on a shirt.”

He turned and blinked at her, puzzled. “Why?”

“Because I can’t concentrate with you walking around like that, that’s why,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment, and then a slow smile started to dawn on his face. “Really?” he said, in tones of deep amusement. “I’m that distracting?”

“You’re all...” she waved her hand vaguely, encompassing the length of his body, from his dark, tousled hair to his bare feet.

”All what?”

Abby just glared at him, unwilling to voice her thoughts. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made pretty clear her appreciation for his body during the last few days, but she’d be damned if she’d spell it out for him now. It was more than a little embarrassing that she kept losing her train of thought due to something so shallow as the movement of the firm, flexing muscles of Marcus Kane’s bare shoulders when he leaned against a window frame.

Her lack of a smart answer seemed to speak for itself, however. Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Could it be that I’ve actually done the impossible,” he said, “and rendered Abby Griffin speechless?”

“Oh, stop.”

Marcus chuckled, and left the window to cross the room to her. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her close, looking down into her eyes warmly. His voice lowered a couple of octaves to something approaching a rumble. “Now how should I use my new found powers, I wonder?” he mused, apparently having entirely forgotten any serious discussion they might have been having.

“ _Stop_ it,” Abby protested, now trying not to laugh herself.

Marcus let his hands drift up and down her sides, caressing the curve of her hips idly. He pressed a kiss to her neck, nudging her head sideways. “Stop what?” he said.

“Talking like that,” said Abby, her eyes closing in lazy pleasure as Marcus nuzzled her neck tenderly.

“I can’t help the way my voice sounds, Abby,” he murmured, low and soft in her ear. “And I can’t help the powers of raw, sexual magnetism I have over you—”

Now she _did_ laugh; a soft breath of unwilling amusement. “You’re an ass,” she said.

He raised his head and grinned. “The way you look at me, you’d think that’s _all_ I was,” he said. “I’m not a piece of meat, Abby.”

He looked so gleeful she couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible not to love Marcus like this; playful and irreverent and so obviously, unashamedly _happy_ that he seemed in some ways utterly transformed. In all the years Abby had known him, she realised, she’d never really seen him happy. Content, perhaps. Satisfied with his work, his position, his victories, himself. But never _happy._ Now the sheer force of his delight almost seemed to make him glow. His eyes danced with warmth and humour.

She reached up, wound her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Marcus kissed her back, pulling her close so that she was pressed against his bare chest, apparently profoundly enjoying the sensation if the low hum of pleasure that issued from his throat was any indication.

Perhaps there was something in that ‘raw sexual magnetism’ nonsense after all, because they were both breathing very hard when they finally broke apart. It was deeply unfair, Abby thought vaguely, that Marcus should turn out to be so goddamn _good_ at kissing. And...everything else. How was she supposed to ever look him in the eye again, even fully dressed, when she knew that?

Marcus let his forehead rest gently against hers for a moment. “I love you,” he said softly, which was also very unfair because it immediately robbed Abby of all righteous indignation.

“I love you too,” she said, and slid her hands down to explore the broad expanse of his shoulders and run her palms appreciatively over his bare chest, deciding if she was going to be made fun of for this she might as well enjoy it.

Marcus chuckled. “I can’t believe that all this time, all I had to do was take my shirt off to win an argument with you,” he said.

Abby rolled her eyes, unwilling to let him have things _all_ his own way. “Are you saying that if I took _my_ shirt off, you wouldn’t immediately forget whatever you were talking about?”

“Fair point,” Marcus conceded. A thoughtful look came into his eyes. “But one that could use some rigorous testing, I think...”

They never really got back to their discussion, in the end.

 

* * *

 


	16. New Friends

 Prompt: anon on Tumblr asked for _'jealous Abby'_

 

* * *

 

It was late, and the sun had almost set when Marcus returned to the house he and Abby now shared in the Eligius camp. It couldn’t have been called a comfortable place by any means, what with the armed guard outside at every hour of the day, and the mess of medical equipment cluttering up the inside that had overwhelmed the cosiness of what they were now sure had been Clarke’s home for most of the six years they had been in the bunker.

Still, it was familiar. Home, of a kind. And given their precarious position in the camp, and the impending conflict brewing with Wonkru, it was always a relief just to see Abby again. Every time they were parted, he worried about her in his absence.

She was working when he came in, reading indecipherable data off a computer screen, with her back to the door he was escorted through. She only glanced briefly over her shoulder to see who had entered before turning back to her task, offering no more than a brief nod of greeting. When the guard had left, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone, Marcus started removing his jacket, hoping at least that he could get some sleep for once before the next damn crisis hit, and persuade Abby to do the same. She shouldn’t be working every second of the day and night, no matter what she thought.

“What did Diyoza want this time?” asked Abby, still not turning around, her eyes fixed on her screen.

“Nothing new,” said Marcus, a touch wearily, sitting down briefly to pull off his boots and placing them neatly next to the door. “Information on Octavia, mostly. What resources she has at her disposal...what I think she’s likely to do...” He sighed. “She did say she’d be willing to consider integration of the two groups if Wonkru surrendered.”

“Octavia won’t,” said Abby.

“No, she won’t. But Wonkru might.”

There was a pause as the implications of this sank in, and then Abby said:

“You think we can trust Diyoza?”

“I think we can trust her not to be a fool,” said Marcus. He stood up again, working out the cricks in his neck as he spoke. “She’s ruthless – I‘d guess she has to be to have a hope of keeping the other prisoners in line – but I don’t think she wants a bloodbath any more than we do. It’s in her best interests for this to end peaceably. If it comes to war though, she won’t hesitate.”

“You sound almost as if you respect her,” said Abby.

Marcus considered this. “She’s a formidable woman,” he said. “It’s impressive that she’s managed to keep her people in line, and from what she’s told me about her past it would definitely be a mistake to underestimate what she’s capable of.”

“Well. You two seem to have a rapport, anyway.”

There was something a little too casual in Abby’s voice that someone who didn’t know her might not pick up on, but Marcus suddenly felt as though he was missing something in the conversation.

“I suppose,” he said carefully. “Abby, is everything alright?”

“Fine,” said Abby. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your little chats with the woman who tried to drop a missile on everyone we know.”

Marcus’ sense of unease deepened. “I’m not sure if ‘enjoying’ is the right word...” he said slowly. “It’s not exactly an interrogation, but Diyoza’s clearly trying to gather as much intel as possible.”

“Right, I’m sure the tequila really helps with that.”

Marcus stared at her back, her face turned from him and giving nothing away beyond an obvious tension in her posture. A thought occurred to him, absurd and so sudden that he voiced it before he really had time to think.

“Abby...are you...don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

He half expected her to spin around, furious, snap at him for being ridiculous. Instead she just continued to stare at her screen, scrolling through figures apparently deep in concentration.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her,” she said, eventually. “Not that I blame you. I can see why drinking tequila in the sun with such a _formidable_ woman would be more appealing than staying here and keeping an eye on me at all times to check how often I take a damn pill.”

The bitter note of defeat in her voice was like a knife to his heart. Marcus crossed the room and laid his hands lightly on her shoulders. He felt her flinch.

“Abby...” he said. She didn’t turn, but at least abandoned the pretence of reading her screen, dropping her head to look at the ground instead. He wrapped his arms around her gently and kissed the top of her head when she leaned back into his embrace.

“Colonel Diyoza might be an ally, but you are the love of my life,” he said softly. “We’ve been through hell and back ever since we came to the ground, but I wouldn’t change a moment with you. You’ve made me happy, and you’ve made me whole. You’re _everything_ to me, Abby. Nothing will ever change that.”

He turned her gently to face him and was relieved when she offered no resistance. Looking down into her familiar warm brown eyes, he saw that they were bright with emotion. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, tilting it upwards so that he could kiss her softly on the lips.

“And, for what it’s worth,” he said, when they broke apart, “ _you_ are the most formidable woman I know. And that’s saying a lot.”

Abby cracked a reluctant smile. “Don’t let Indra hear you say that,” she said.

Marcus smiled too. “Actually I think she might agree with me.” He searched Abby’s face, wanting very badly to think of a way to make her truly understand, to believe what he was saying. The idea that she could think even for a moment that he might turn away from her for someone else was unbearable.

“I love you,” he said, his voice soft and fervent. “More than anything. I swear to you, _everything_ I do is to keep our people safe, and to keep _you_ safe.”

“I know,” said Abby quietly. “I know that, I do. I just wish...I wish I could be stronger for you. You must be so disappointed—”

Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and Marcus pulled her into his arms instinctively, holding her close.

“Never,” he murmured into her hair. “Never. You _are_ strong, Abby, and you _will_ get through this. We’ll get through it together.”

Abby said nothing, just clung tightly to him and buried her head against his chest so he couldn’t see her face. He could feel her shoulders trembling with the effort of trying not to cry as he held her, and Marcus wished, more than anything, that he could take this burden – the pain of it, the doubt and the sleepless nights and the crushing shame – from her. That there would come a day when Abby Griffin wouldn’t _have_ to be strong anymore.

If helping Colonel Diyoza defeat Wonkru and rule this valley was the way to do that, then that was a price he was willing to pay. No hesitation, no regret. Abby had _saved_ him, more times than he could count, and if there was one thing he had learned during those six years of hell in the bunker, it was this:

For her sake, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.


	17. Choices

Prompt: _“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”_

(this one is sort of a companion piece to chapter 14 I guess)

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not exactly a deliberate choice, but the Alpha Station Observation Room is where Abby always ends up these days when she wants to be alone.

This place is sometimes used by courting couples; she and Jake had come here more than once, back in the day. But generally it’s a good place to avoid having to see anyone, unless there’s anything particular to see on the surface of the planet below, or some Unity Day event going on. Most people on the Ark are so used to the sight outside their windows that it no longer makes much of an impression on them. Abby has never been able to understand that. It’s cold in here, certainly, and the lights don’t work – not enough power to waste on somewhere like this full time – but you don’t need them, because the window that dominates the outer wall is filled with the Earth below, draping the room with a soft blue light. It’s beautiful or sad, depending on your mood, but she doesn’t think it’s a sight that she could ever get tired of. It has a way of putting things into perspective.

Abby has only come here because she can’t sleep, because her quarters feel tonight like a mockery of the home they once were, with Jake and Clarke so fresh in her mind and yet so glaringly, achingly absent.

She hasn’t really slept since the culling anyway. She keeps jolting awake, gasping for breath.

But when she enters the room, hoping that watching the Earth for a while will help her to feel close to Clarke, even if she can no longer talk to her, Abby finds the place already occupied. Kane half turns when he hears the door close behind her, but barely acknowledges her presence. Even in the faint light, Abby can see that he looks as tired as she feels, almost haggard, the lines of his face thrown into sharp relief by the deep shadows of the room.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, more out of surprise than anything else. He has, after all, just as much right to be here as she does.

“The same as you, I assume,” Kane says. “I wanted to be alone. To think.”

“Right.”

She should leave – clearly neither of them are in the mood for company, least of all each other’s – but as soon as the thought occurs to her she feels angry at herself for thinking it. Why the hell should _she_ leave? What right does Kane have to be here feeling sorry for himself?

“I heard what happened at the memorial today,” she says bluntly. “You shouldn’t have gone there. You probably just made things worse. People are angry enough as it is.”

Kane doesn’t reply. Thelonius must have said all this to him already, she thinks. And he knows anyway; he’s not a fool, and he’s more than aware of what people on the Ark think of him, especially now. It’s one of the few things Abby has always been able to respect about Marcus Kane, even when she can’t stand the man – that he has never let what other people think matter to him. He always does what he thinks is right, no matter the political cost.

No matter _any_ cost.

He’s always so _certain_ of himself, Kane. So absolutely by-the-book, so stubbornly self righteous. So unwilling to listen to any other opinion than his own. The irony is that he would say much the same thing about her, she knows, but that fact has never done much to help them see eye to eye.

He doesn’t look certain now. He looks lost, an oddly small figure outlined against the vast glowing curve of the Earth through the window behind him. It fills Abby with a sudden, poisonous resentment, that _now_ he should feel remorse, that _now_ he allows himself doubt. Now, when it’s too late by far. The anger bubbles out of her, and she finds herself wanting to go over and shake him.

“You know, everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” she says bitterly, unable to stop herself from voicing her thoughts aloud. “But you really just don’t know what you’re doing, do you? You’re just making it up as you go along, like the rest of us.”

“I don’t think anyone ever thinks they’re the bad guy,” says Kane quietly.

Abby glares at him, wishing he would fight back, become the coolly superior, smugly confident Marcus Kane she is used to. She knows how to deal with him like that. This quiet, palpable despair is infuriating, because it makes it so much harder to be angry with him. And being angry at him has always been easy, she _wants_ to be angry at him.

“You got what you wanted, anyway,” she snaps. “All those people dead, because you wouldn’t wait a couple more days. Because you thought being _right_ was more important than their lives. So was it worth it, Kane? Are you satisfied?”

She’s trying to goad him into a response now, but she knows as soon as she says it that she’s gone too far. Kane stares at her as though he’s never seen her before in his life.

“Am I _satisfied?_ ” he repeats, and then his eyes drop from her face, and he says quietly, almost as if to himself: “Is that really what you think of me?”

There are a thousand answers she could make to that, a thousand accusations she could throw, unpleasant truths she could cut him down with. But something about the hopelessness in his voice makes them all stick in her throat, and in the end all she replies is:

“No.”

It’s a simple word, hardly a revelation, but his eyes flick up to meet hers again in obvious surprise. And that shows exactly what he thinks of _her_ , Abby realises with a kind of bitter satisfaction. He had assumed she would want to rub salt into the wound, refuse to back down. They always expect the worst of each other.

It suddenly feels very tiresome, the whole thing.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she says. “I know you didn’t want things to happen this way.”

“No, I didn’t,” he says.

“I wish you’d just listened to me, though. That you had trusted me. Just this once.”

“So do I.”

Abby walks over to stand next to him, and they both look out in silence at the Earth below for a long time. She finds that her anger with him is draining away, in spite of herself. What would be the point in goading him further, in throwing recriminations at him, if he just stands there and takes it? Kane has never seemed to care much about what she thought before; she doubts her censure will matter to him now. Why start another argument about something neither of them can change?

And if nothing else, there’s a perverse comfort in being with another person who looks as lost and miserable as she feels.

“Clarke found out that I was the one who turned in Jake,” she says, surprising even herself as she says the words. But she needs to tell _someone_ , and maybe it’s better that it be someone whose opinion of her probably can’t be made worse.

Kane glances sideways at her. If he is surprised at her admission, he hides it well. “I see,” he says. He looks as though maybe he’s taking her words as an attempt to justify her lashing out at him, and perhaps it is, at that.

“I knew we would have to talk about it someday,” Abby continues. “I thought a lot about what I would say to her. And in the end it turned out we had the conversation over the damn _radio_.”

“What did she say?” Kane asks, and although it’s hardly any of his business, Abby finds she’s still glad he asked. Her conversation with Clarke is like an open wound, and even if Kane knowing only makes it worse, she just needs someone to _see_ it. Even if he tells her she deserves everything she got. Perhaps a part of her is hoping that he will.

“She cut me off,” she says quietly. “All this time I thought if I could just hear from her, just find out for sure that she was alive, that she was okay...and then she cut me off. She said she was done talking to me.”

_Maybe forever._

She doesn’t say it aloud, but she doesn’t have to. It must be written all over her face. Kane isn’t looking out of the window anymore, but she can’t bring herself to turn and see his expression.

“She’ll forgive you,” he says.

“You don’t know that.”

“She’s your daughter. Or course she will.”

“She’s Jake’s daughter too.”

“Yes she is. And that’s why she’ll forgive you.”

Abby does turn to look at him then, genuinely surprised by Kane’s certainty, even more so by what he’s implying. He doesn’t avoid her gaze, and she recognises in his face something she last saw when he heard Clarke’s wristband had gone dark – the sympathy which she thought he had long ago lost any capacity to feel for her.

“Abby, Clarke _knows_ you,” he says, and his voice is almost gentle. “Deep down she’ll understand that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone unless you had no other choice. Unless you truly believed it was the right thing to do.”

“Thinking something is the right thing to do doesn’t always mean it is,” says Abby.

“No.”

Abby hesitates, and then—

“Do you think I was wrong?” she says. “To turn Jake in?”

If he has found this turn in the conversation unexpected until this point, now Kane looks visibly stunned at the question.

“Why...would you ask me that?” he asks carefully.

“Because you never told me. I think it’s the one damn thing you never gave me an opinion on.”

“I voted to float Jake,” says Kane. “We all did.”

“I know. Once you knew what he was planning to do, you thought the only fair punishment was the one we would have given anyone else in his place. I understand that. You thought what he wanted to do would destroy us all. I understand that too; I thought the same thing, then. But you never told me whether you thought what _I_ did was right. Turning him in.”

“He broke the law,” says Kane.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” It suddenly seems very important, though Abby couldn’t say whether she’s looking for absolution or judgement, or why she’s seeking either from _Kane_ , of all people. But whatever else he’s done, he’s never lied to her. She knows he won’t give her anything but the truth now.

“Would you have done it?” she asks quietly. “If you thought it was the only way to save everyone...would you have done it to someone you loved?”

Kane opens his mouth and then closes it again. Something in his eyes gives him an almost hunted look, and when he speaks, there is an odd timbre to his voice, as though he is struggling to contain some emotion; what exactly she can’t tell.

“Abby, I—”

Whatever he was about to say remains unsaid, as the door opens behind them and a couple walk in, arms around each other, giggling quietly. They look embarrassed upon finding the room occupied, and hover awkwardly just inside the doorway, clearly not wanting to make obvious the reason they’re here by leaving immediately again.

Kane clears his throat self consciously, clearly acutely aware of their audience. “It’s getting late,” he says stiffly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Councillor Griffin.”

“Not Councillor anymore,” Abby reminds him.

“Yes, I...of course. Then I’ll...well. Goodnight, Doctor Griffin.”

Abby isn’t sure whether to be amused or exasperated that her first name has suddenly apparently become too informal for him to stand using. Whatever temporary peace they might have found in the last few minutes has clearly been broken. The rawness, the honesty of their exchange has been lost in an instant, and she finds herself suddenly deeply resenting the cold, professional facade Kane puts up that makes moments like this so few and far between these days. It occurs to Abby that perhaps he too finds her easier to deal with when they’re fighting.

“Goodnight, Marcus,” she says, deliberately stressing his name just a little, and she sees it hit home in the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as she turns to leave. Yesterday it might have felt like a victory to throw him like that, to get in the last word. Now, it just makes her a little sad.

She had almost forgotten, for a minute there, that they are no longer really friends.


	18. Apodyopis (drabble)

Prompt: _Apodyopis – The act of mentally undressing someone._

 

* * *

 

_I wonder what he looks like naked._

In a lifetime of knowing Marcus Kane, the thought has never once occurred to Abby before. But once it’s in her mind, it refuses to leave.

There’s never been any opportunity to find out, never any medical need. He keeps himself in shape, she knows. He’s healthy, physically fit for his age. She tries to consider the facts with a detached, doctor’s perspective. It doesn’t work.

It’s only plain human curiosity, she tells herself. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.

She only wishes the thought wouldn’t keep sneaking into her mind when they’re alone together.


	19. Agelast (drabble)

Prompt: _Agelast – A person who never laughs_

 

* * *

 

In the bunker, Marcus dreams of the Earth, and Abby.

The two have become inextricably linked in his mind; distant and unknowable as they once were...half lost to him as they are now.

He dreams of her walking in sunlight, flowers in her hair. He dreams of her swimming naked in moonlit pools. He dreams of her laughing in the first snowfall of winter, snowflakes melting on her eyelashes, cheeks flushed with cold.

Sometimes he doesn’t know what he misses more – the feel of sunlight on his skin, or Abby’s laughter. Sometimes he thinks they might be the same thing.


	20. Basorexia (drabble)

Prompt: _Basorexia –_ _An overwhelming desire to kiss._

 

* * *

 

It’s difficult not to, now that he knows he _can_.

Marcus wakes every morning with Abby wrapped in his arms, naked and indescribably lovely, smiling at him like she can hardly believe this has happened to them either, and he kisses her properly awake because it’s impossible to resist. One kiss turns into another, and another, and they’re later than they mean to be every day...

It would be so easy, to waste a whole day away just kissing Abby. Marcus swears to himself that one day, when all this is over, he’ll find a way to do just that.


	21. Ayurnamat (drabble)

Prompt: _Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed._

 

* * *

 

She always knows what he’s been dreaming of when he wakes breathless, trembling, wrapping his arms fiercely around her as though she might slip away.

“ _It’s alright.”_ She whispers it into his embrace.

_“I could have killed you.”_

_“You didn’t.”_

_“I would have—”_

_“But you didn’t. I’m right here.”_

Even after the horrors he’s seen, it’s the airlock his mind returns to, night after night. There are so many times he might have lost her, but this is what terrifies him the most – that he came so close to losing her without ever truly having known her at all.


	22. Braid

Prompt: _soft™ Marcus being happy that Abby has started to braid her hair again in the bunker_

 

* * *

 

When Marcus got a chance to stop by Medical near midday – insofar as that made any difference down here away from the sunlight – he found Abby standing at her desk, absorbed in some readout on a screen. She was so engrossed in whatever it was, she didn’t hear him enter the room and he had to clear his throat somewhat self consciously to get her attention.

She jumped slightly when she turned and saw him. “Oh! Marcus, I didn’t expect to see you. Is everything alright?”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he said offhandedly. “I just wanted to check in, see how your day was going.”

Not so long ago, that question would have been a loaded one. Something like a thinly veiled code for _‘How bad is it today?’ ‘How bad is the pain?’ ‘How many pills have you taken?’_ Not so long ago checking in with Abby would really have meant checking _up_ on Abby.

“Not too bad,” said Abby, throwing him a quick smile before turning back to her screen. “Busy. But it always is.”

And there was no guilt in her voice, no trace of concealment; Marcus hadn’t expected there to be. Abby had been off the pills for a little over three months now. It had been hard at first, once they had both realised how far her problem with them had gone, but they had gotten through it together, the worst now behind them. And life in the bunker had finally settled into something approaching a routine. It was amazing, really, how things could become _normal_ so quickly. The rations, the schedules, and yes...the fighting pits. It was terrible too, sometimes, how things could become normal so quickly.

But though he could never be happy with the method of justice Octavia meted out to those who broke the rules, Marcus was too conscious of his own hypocrisy in totally condemning it, even within the safety of his own head. Life down here wasn’t so different from the Ark, after all. If you broke the law, you died. Simple as that. It wasn’t ideal, but as a system built under extreme circumstances, it _worked._ They had order, peace, even if it was a peace shaped by fear.

But you couldn’t be afraid every second of every day. Life went on – children had to be raised, crops had to be grown, machinery had to be fixed. As time went by it all became strangely familiar. Going to the canteen to receive daily food rations, dealing with power outages and limited space, living a life hemmed in by grey metal walls...even the long Council meetings were a familiar feature, although Octavia’s Council was far larger than the one Marcus had served on before, and the inevitable bickering over policy far more frequently ended in threats of physical violence than it ever had on the Ark.

And of course, Doctor Abigail Griffin in Medical. Walking in like this on any given day, Marcus could be forgiven for thinking he _was_ back on the Ark. Aside from the rather better equipment – not worn from nearly a century of use – the facilities weren’t so different from those they’d had up in space. And here was Abby, reading a screen of some indecipherable medical scan at a cluttered desk, while Jackson worked in the next room over, separated by a glass wall, tending to a patient with what looked like minor burns. A couple of patients with more serious problems slept in beds in a larger room nearby concealed by a screen, given away only by the occasional cough. It was a scene right out of any number of visits to Medical Marcus had been called on to make throughout his lifetime.

Except of course that on the Ark, Abby would never have smiled at him like that when he walked in. And on the Ark, he wouldn’t have had the bliss of waking every day up with her wrapped in his arms, her warm skin pressed against his, the soft scent of her hair filling his lungs with the first conscious breath he took.

Well... _most_ days, anyway.

“I missed you this morning,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Abby, still reading the screen distractedly. “Early surgery; I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So you didn’t get a chance to pick up your morning rations then?”

Abby sighed. “Marcus...”

“It’s alright, I’m not here to nag you. Just...a reminder, that’s all.”

He crossed the room to stand beside her, peering down over her shoulder at her screen, and suddenly realised what it was that had reminded him so strongly of the Ark.

“You braided your hair.”

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your keen observation skills,” said Abby, absently raising her hand to touch the end of the braid that lay over her shoulder.

Marcus felt an unexpected tug of emotion in his chest. “I haven’t seen it like that since the Ark,” he said softly. “You look very pretty.”

To his surprise, Abby’s cheeks actually went slightly pink. It occurred to him he might not have ever said that to her before, at least not in those specific words. She looked so lovely just a little embarrassed that Marcus couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing the top of her head tenderly.

Abby nudged him with her shoulder, jostling him a little in an affectionate way. “I _am_ at work, Marcus,” she said, in a tone of admonishment that was completely undercut by her smile.

“Sorry,” he said, with a smile of his own. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Abby abandoned her screen, turning to face him properly, leaning casually back against the desk in a way that Marcus considered unfairly attractive.

“You really do like my hair in a braid, don’t you?” she said.

Marcus chuckled, a little self-consciously. “Let’s just say it brings back memories,” he said.

Abby looked sceptical. “Memories of when we hated each other?”

“I never hated you.”

“You thought I was insufferable,” said Abby. “You actually said so to my face, once. _‘Insufferably self-righteous’_ I believe were your exact words.”

“Well in my defence, you very frequently _were_.”

“And you were very frequently a complete jackass.”

“Not true – I was a complete jackass _all_ the time.”

Abby let out an unwilling breath of laughter. “My point, Marcus, is that it’s not exactly a period of our relationship I look back on fondly.”

“No. But that’s why, I...” He hesitated, a little unsure of how to explain. “It reminds me of how much things between us have changed,” he said. “After everything we’ve been through since those days...no matter what else has happened, the two of us...that got better.”

“A _lot_ better,” Abby said wryly, but there was a certain softness in her eyes that told him she understood what he was trying to say.

“I’m not exactly nostalgic for back then,” said Marcus. “But you were a part of my life then too, and for better or worse I don’t want to forget that.” He smiled. “And...I remember a time when I used to imagine what your hair looked like out of that braid. I’d never seen it. I used to look at you across the Council Table and try to picture it loose.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “Is that _all_ you pictured?” she asked, a touch playfully.

Marcus grinned. “Maybe not all,” he admitted, but didn’t elaborate. He had already long since confessed his long-standing attraction to Abby, and discovered that she was absolutely delighted to know that all that time they had been at each other’s throats, she had been driving him crazy in a very _different_ way as well. It gave her a slight sense of victory after-the-fact, he suspected, and he was happy to let her claim it – her obvious pleasure in learning the depths of his desire for her more than made up for any awkwardness he might have felt about it. Speaking of which...

“Will you uh...will you still be wearing your hair like that tonight?” he asked, lowering his voice a little, though no one was close by enough to hear them anyway.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” said Abby.

Marcus reached out and stroked her thick braid lightly, letting his fingertips skim down the plaited hair. “Maybe I could help you take it down before bed?” he said.

“...if you particularly wanted to,” said Abby, amusement clear in her voice.

“It might be fulfilling a very long held fantasy,” Marcus admitted.

Abby rose up onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “That’s weirdly sweet,” she said, smiling.

Marcus grinned. “Only the first part, believe me.”

Abby’s smile grew wider. “I’ll see you tonight then,” she said, and though her voice was affectionate, Marcus had known her long enough to understand when she was busy. He briefly considered kissing her properly goodbye, to make up for this morning, but Jackson _was_ just in the next room, and one kiss with Abby rarely ended up as just one.

Still, he couldn’t resist pausing at the door on his way out and throwing one last remark over his shoulder. “Shame you don’t still have that blue coat you used to wear,” he said.

“Who said I was planning on wearing any clothes at all?” said Abby, with a smirk. “See you later, Councillor Kane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case there's any confusion here, my headcanon for the bunker - which I think is entirely backed up by what we see in the show - is that Abby did successfully kick the pills at some point after first developing a problem with them, and it was only after the Dark Year that they became an issue again and she relapsed. On a wider scale, basically I imagine the time in the bunker before the Dark Year to be a relatively peaceful and functioning society, before things turned really bad later on.


End file.
